


God Upon the Main

by imperiality



Series: Upon the Main [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, But ah well, Fantasy, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magic, Mythology - Freeform, Prequel, and also epilogue, demigod lance, if i were magisterpavus it would have been written, such is life, you better believe there was shark mer sex happening up in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 01:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16734315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperiality/pseuds/imperiality
Summary: Both a pre- and sequel toKnight Upon the Main. Told in Lance's perspective of how he came to be the Sea God, turned against Terra and met Shiro.





	God Upon the Main

**Author's Note:**

> The prose is definitely less... well I can't say linear but it certainly holds a different flair than Knight. It's not stream of conscious, but close. 
> 
> Special thanks to @BenchOracle and @Ariana for the inspiration/prompt. Y'all are the real backbones

Like all man, Lance was born of the seed and the flesh. He was conceived like a savior; under a humble name in a humble village. Born was he by the hushing beckon of the sea. Quickly was he humbled to its mighty waves, terrible heights and horrible depths. Immediate was his desire to learn all of the sea’s captive secrets. Conceived of Lance was true love, and pure passion.

When Lance was born, the sea was still untainted. Metalwork was crude as too were fashions and architecture. Art and literature. When Lance was born, simplicity was the ruler and judge of his land. He dwelled in the simplicity of bearing his honest soul to a fellow friend. Uncomplicated, guileless were his yearnings and incentives. He had only ever wanted to know of the sea. He had only ever wanted to see it beautiful.

As Lance, not yet named and not yet swaddled, came into the earth he was born of, his father nor mother knew the fate that awaited him. For far earlier, long before clothes and metals and crops were harvested, were terrible forces that clashed. Lance was born of love and passion; of simple desire and honest tongue. The boy was born to kind parents with gentle faces and a large family with generosity abundant. However, so too was Lance born to the water’s call. When he would come of age, the waves would know. When the day came, they would tell him his destiny. Of it, he could not refuse.

For before the earth was moulded and its resources harvested, many great beings coexisted in miasmic discord. Faceless, nameless, and near hopeless were they. The heavens in their lofty majesty spread across the sky with diaphanous winds. Breezes and torrents they sent upon the uprising rock. The rock caved under both salt and fresh water, but guided the waters’ every path. Stars, proud stars in countless clusters, gave light unto the heavens and struck down onto the land. Each force, many more too great to be counted, lusted for domain.

All of them residing as one, indistinguishable from the other, made the tender planet too unstable to sustain. With begrudging agreeance after many warring ages, the powers that be reached their compromise. Each one of them, they spoke, would demarcate their own space to rule. Their separation was to become manifest. A human life would be an unshed blood covenant to lord it.

Lance, when he was of age, discovered that he alone would not be the only mortal to represent. The winds chose their own mortal, the rock chose theirs. The waters chose a mortal more sturdy and more lax than Lance. The waters told him when he was of age, that he was to rule over the animals within the sea.

The sea spoke all of the world's ancient secrets to him in a haunting voice, pervading his dreams. Image after image was Lance shown of how the world used to be. He hazily saw the faces of other chosen ones like him. When the dream and the scenes were over, he breathlessly asked,

“ _Why me?_ ”

Like the night’s gentle lapping tide, the water’s ancient voice replied. “You have been found worthy.”

The man, no longer a boy, relayed all of the information to his kind, heartbroken parents. His father was stricken silent, weeping with grief. His mother held him tight, asking why the waters would take her boy away. She demanded to know what it was that had angered it so.

“Why is it my son that has to sacrifice?”

Lance wept with them. In their ignorance he let them grieve, calling upon all his siblings so they could mourn their loss with him. When at last all their tears were shed, he held his mother’s hands. He looked to his father’s eyes. Tears were still freshly shed, and all about him Lance could hear harsh sniveling and sniffling. He bid them joy.

“I’m not leaving. Not really.” In the face of their tears, he smiled. “The sea said it found me worthy. It’s because of your love for me, and our love of the sea, that made it chose me. I’m not going to be… killed. I don’t think.” Lance recoils. “Death is not what the water wants. It told me that the heavens and the rock and the grass and the stars and everything else… wanted _peace_. The sea said I would be the voice for all the animals that live under the waves. I’m not going to die, mamá.” He whispers, wiping away another of his mother’s falling tear. “I’m going to be reborn.”

His mother’s weeping began slow and laborious, while his father’s fierce weeping started anew. All at once his family wrapped up their gentle sacrifice in their shaking arms. Tighter and tighter they held, as if their unbreakable tether would be enough to keep Lance from his fate. In time, a mortal’s arms must tire. In time, the man had to say his goodbyes and bid his family farewell. As he did he promised them all good fortuition. The water promised to care for him in their stead.

The weeping subsided. Embraces ceased and when night draped its heavy curtains, Lance laid himself down to sleep with a heart overwhelmed with excitement. Soon would not be a close enough time for him to taste and see and learn the rest of what the water had to show him. The heavens twinkled with white and purple stars. The mountains, ever immovable and silent, whistled as the winds passed through their trees. Lance slipped his eyes closed, and the water’s magic quickly overtook him.

Just as he had pulled his heavy blanket to his chin, his hands clenched down on the fraying fabric. His breathing grew heavy and slow. When he slipped his eyes closed, they reopened in a flash. His pulse was silent. The night was dark. The sea called out to him.

As a chosen mortal vessel he acquiesced to the call. The call curled in close to him, while ancient magic tinted his eyes a blinding blue. Forces of nature coalesced under Lance’s chest, leading his feet away from his bed and out of his room. Like a ghost he stepped closer to where the water’s bubbling call surfaced. As he walked, the light emitted from his eyes were bright enough to wake his anxiously resting family. One by one they woke each other up. They chased out of their doors to stare at Lance, who continued to walk with unblinking eyes and unwavering countenance.

“Dear forces that be,” his mother breathlessly gasped. “He’s walking like a man possessed.”

Stricken, the young man’s siblings, parents and family gripped tight to doorframes; the only to keep hem upright. They watched unmoving, silently grieving that there would be no strength enough or pleading to keep Lance with them. None of them moved to keep him back. No one interceded his path. No one called after him to make him turn around, for they knew they would only be holding him back from his destiny.

Through his village’s dirt roads he walked, feeling the freezing burn grow stronger as he walked closer to the shore. With each step he took, the light in his eyes threatens to take his own vision. When at last the magic overcame him and all he saw was white, he submitted himself to the guiding of ancient voices. Every time the sole of his foot impressed against the chilly ground, a new light was found on his person. When he first awoke, the light circled around the irises of his eyes. Steadily as the minutes and his path progressed, blinding blue spotted farther down his body. Under the sockets of his eyes, freckles of blue magic spattered in small clusters. All he felt was the humid air around him, smelling the briny air in, but his body was warped by transformation in rapid spell.

As he walked as a lamb in a procession for sacrifice, the spattering marks spread ever lower. Under his eyes and across his cheeks, little flashes of blue radiated from beneath his skin. Then, covering like a shawl, magic markings wrapped around his neck and shoulders. Next after that were marks shining forth from his forearms. When they flickered and blinked from the protrusions of his hips, the markings at last stopped. It was at that moment that his steps halted as well.

Bright, inescapable shine poured out from the very pores of Lance’s body. His eyes were astral beacons of hot light. The voice of the water told him to still, returning some of his agency so he may return to his mind to dwell in his senses. The white of his eyes abated only slightly. He looked down to his feet, seeing where the water’s voice had commanded him to stand. He glared at his changed body, noticing the flickering lights emanating from him. There was a blue hue to his skin where it once was gold. Lapping against his toes was the black, salty water of sea’s coast. The water has commanded him to the shore’s line, taking over his body and mind step by step. It called out to him again with unwavering force.

When the heel of his foot sunk under the hush of the water, his will no longer remained his own. The sea’s voice and magic and presence filled him in every way and manner. Dark, endless waves washed over Lance’s feet. He felt neither the cold or its chilling spray. He walked until he was waist deep. The sea told him to wait. Lance was compliant and submissive to obey. All at once the magic resumes.

Where the waves brushed over the lower half of his submerged body, a gentle warmth diffused around his legs. The warmth grew hotter, to the point where white bubbles roiled to the water’s surface. Quickly the warmth gave way to sharp heat. Underwater the man’s legs sweated restless and pained. The magic clouded most of his wakefulness, taking off the worst of the heat, but not all. It rose and rose, rising so much he could see white whips of evaporation hovering the surface. The heat passed from red to white, the sea turned opaque to clear, and just when Lance thought he cannot bear to stand another second, the sea whispered its final command.

“Sink.”

Raising his arms up, the blinded tribute expelled all the air from his lungs. His mouth became divest of breath. The evening’s dark waters crested over his head, so Lance became wholly dependent on the sea’s charge. It pulled him to come even deeper still. Lance pushed the water from below him so he could descend. This far under the cold depths, he knew he was a torch of enchantment. There must have been creatures that could see him from knots and miles away. When he submerged deep enough, the heat fizzled and faded. Instead of heat, a new pressure pushed and pulled at the tendons of the man’s legs. He closed his eyes to all the sudden changes.

Though his eyes shut tight, Lance could see the swirling colors surrounding his darkened legs. Blinding blue and violets whirled- colors that the man would have never imagined. Pressure tighter than the deep waters he’s drowned himself to tightened. It forced his legs together, and startlingly, yet painlessly, they began to fuse.

 _My legs are fusing together._ Lance thought, too far in his stupor to express shock.

Purple glow tinted to pink. The lights in his body marks did not dim; rather, joining the frothy imbuing from his shins. The pink magic took hold of his feet and worked its way upward. It took hold, because where once were tan feet, now flicked a silver, black-tipped tail. Its point was sharp, moving disjointedly against the still human parts of his body. Not long was the pink stationary. His grey fin next joined the rising grey of his shins, where the skin of a new emerging tail was rough and coarse. Pink, blue and violet wrapped around and around, fusing his legs into one, lengthening them down and changing their color from tan to grey. Other fins stretched out from Lance’s new tail, and a dorsal fin arched out from his spine.

The tribute gave his new shark tail a few mighty thrashes. Water parted so he may pass. As Lance tested his new ligament and appendages, the heat and color of ancient magic faded away from him. Remaining was a steady pulsing in his heavy tail, and a sharp tingling around his neck. Sea water closed around him again when he raised a trembling hand. Depressing, shifting beneath the cold waves, were delicate gills that stung even with Lance’s gentle touch.

He took a deep breath in. It flowed back out through the slits by his shoulders.

Low and almost forlorn, the sea’s soundless voice told him the change was complete. It said the magic runs through his gills, tail and his raised veins. Not only did the magic swim through him, but it obeyed him. It was under his control.

“For real?” he gasped out, astonished. He turned his hands over and over in front of him. _Magic obeys me now, huh…_

His first imperial command was the presence of more fitting company. Within minutes of his unspoken call, Lance looked out to a congregation of sharks, fish and creatures unnamed alike. Each one bowed to their new master.

The man was breathless at the display. He called out with his mind to ask the sea for more instruction, but something in his mind felt congested. Calling out again only caused greater pain, until he realized his mistake.

_I am the sea now._

Before him, the sea and all its creatures awaited his next command. Giddiness effervesced in his chest. He bowed to his kingdom. If he were on land, it must surely be his coronation.

Clasping tight to a black-tipped fin of a shark with shining eyes, he said “I think I’m going to like it here.”

 

—

 

The days were long and nights were short for Lance. About the sea’s darkened floors he doled his commands, feeling the sun’s languid, tender kiss upon the water’s surface every rising dawn. He galavanted about the ocean when his tasks were few. The young god savored in the company of his subjects during nights quiet. During nights relaxed, when he was at first transformed, he had filled them with noise. When he first transformed, he longed for the noise of his humanity. Meals and meetings with his family were boisterous and full. Never a dull moment had come to pass.

 _This is my new family now,_ he chastised. With his new family, he spoke a new language. He learned a new culture. In the hollow silence he begged his mind not to be too haunted, even when the old god within it said he had nothing to fear.

The old god was not loud per se, but his fear was quite a bit louder. The silent force within his mind was not able to hush his disquieted heart upon seeing his mother’s untimely passing. Every year for his birth day he would return to the shore. In arduous tiding, Lance retook his human form to greet, weep with and embrace his aging family. Every year he returned, every shift he made, he returned with a heavier heart. One by one or two by two, the family of his past departed from him. They left him to join the domain of the one lording the heavens. His name became a fairy fable to the young children born from his generation. He lived on in their stories as a legend. He lived on in the sea, seldom returning to the land farther in than the shore.

Time ticked on with switch notches. The god looked on as the humans raised themselves up, and tear themselves down. Looking up to the heavens and across the earth’s planes, he talked with the tributes of their places, though not often. At last, humans no more become his family. In the brief sojourns of loneliness beneath the sea, Lance truly knew loss. Under the adoption of the creatures he protects, he knew love.

 

—

 

Love for his subjects, love for the pure waters that glittered like uncut sapphire overwhelmed him. Through the advocation of his love, life prevailed through the subjects he served. Purity, life, love and humility color every being that passed through Lance’s waters; aquatic and human alike.

Love for the humans, in relation to the eternality of his youth, was the quickest to taint.

Too quickly did they progress. Their machines, their contraptions, their greed-shrines to their own pride did the humans construct. The sea became a burden or snare to their ungrateful hearts. To abase the men that stripped Lance’s home of its comforts, he gives order to remind them of the sea’s power. In inculcated retribution, humans culled. Derived from fear, they postured to the frights of the dark sea’s waters, robbing and polluting his once pristine realm. The fear and baseless anger were the things that make Lance’s love extinguish.

The god was never one to emote tepidly. Immediately taking the place of the emotion for the ones he first belonged, hatred supersedes. Each new age brought another manifest of greed. First came the folly of man, thinking they were the ones to lord and tame and name the regions of the earth. Next was lust of man that coveted owning the realms and regions for himself. When they stupidly admitted to themselves that the sea, sky and all in-between was not theirs to own, they sought to suppress. Humans cast aside and scorned the things which they feared.

Ages passed much in this way. The contention rose and fell between the enemies of the sea. In one age the anger was quelled, while in the very next, Lance thought to rise all his subjects against the land dwellers in war never ending.

The god’s wrath never swelled more than when the purple druids infested his water. The kingdom from which they spawned, he was once fiercely loyal. “Terra”, he knew their prospering kingdom was called.

“Terra is known for their diversity,” he said to a frank-looking shark, its fanged teeth hooking out of their jaws. Its glowing eyes looked straight ahead. “Because, they somehow managed to get the Galra, Alteans and humans bowing to one king.” A feat that the god would have never even believed true without tangibly experiencing. “Diversity between species, diversity in their races. Their castle was beautiful, you know.”

A shame it was, that it was the diverse peoples of Terra to drop the rusted guillotine of dissent. The charge of the evil, magic spies was the catalyst to call Lance to war. His anger frothed up from within him. It spilled over, waging into war against Terranians with all his righteousness ignited.

 

—

 

The Captain Shirogane cut a sharp figure in his slip seal suit, the first time he laid ambivalent eyes on Lance’s kingdom. Amidst the white waters of war, the human drifted so serenely, looking at the transmuted edifice of sunken ships. His dark, glassy eyes held the same secrets as Lance’s pilfered statues. In his mind, Lance knows statues were made to be admired. The human, zipped in his conforming armor, beseeched Lance to be handled.

By the thick tendons of Shiro’s neck, the god grappled him. He didn’t mean to kill him, (not yet anyway,) but to trap him. He didn’t mean to flirt with the human either, yet his tongue ran before his mind could consent.

“ _Because you look delicious,_ ” the god confessed. His own blunt honesty shocked himself, compared against the intention to throw him with the rest of his Terranian prisoners. Lance’s saving grace was the squalid manner by which he spoke. Again his mouth betrayed his mind, brazenly telling the beautiful human he would have fun with him. However, fun was both a promise and a threat the Shiro human would have to bear.

Through grace Lance let the Captain escape his clutch, knowing full well the implications of his actions. For all his prisoner by the name of Keith -supposed heir to the Galra command- was silent, the meek historian Hunk was easy to manipulate. Under threat of harm the human, Altean and Galra prisoners in his containment chamber revealed the man that Shiro was. The more they spilled, the more he craved. Beautiful, affluent and confident was the Captain made to be. Lance had seen it for his own eyes, and knew Shiro would be the missing piece to best the terrorizing druids once and for all.

Using the Captain for his own gain was the ideal plan. Lance’s plan was going well underway too, albeit with some stumbles. Then, the stumbles grew in magnitude. In frequency. Lance found himself not only confessing his attraction, but his vulnerability to Shiro in ways he hadn’t even shared with his subjects. As he told the plight of his kingdom to the Captain, Lance couldn’t recall the last time he had been this postulant with a human.

Without any fear and with all passion, Captain Shirogane had shown Lance what it meant to be human again. Somehow, when the high tides had come to pass, the god convinced Shiro to give his human standing behind.

 

—

 

The human Takashi Shirogane exuded total control, competence and capability. His strength was tempered and tangible. It was for all these reasons (and the command he held over the god Lance’s gaze) that Lance thought humanity was so unbecoming. Lance had kissed the man’s eager, pliant lips, sharing magic older, farther and more intimate than he could even consider. Between each of those tender fleeting seconds, the god knew the outpour of his transformation was the most sagacious command of his authority he has ever called. The controlled power in Shiro’s shoulders and arms and eyes made Lance think him a better candidate for godhood than himself. What could Lance say? The tail suited the captain. He slipped in comfortably to life beneath the surface.

There was still a newness to underwater life that Lance knew Shiro had tried to quell. Not a look of novelty wore the former captain, but it was close. It was _unusual_. Unusual were the things Shiro had never seen from the decks of his clippers or his silly little rowboats he traversed with over Lance’s home. Shiro couldn’t stop the widening of his eyes or his half-second gasps upon seeing the creatures of the deep. Once, after a long day of touring and meeting and greeting when Shiro first transformed, he wrapped himself up behind Lance in a darkened cove. As they laid themselves down to sleep, the slippery walls shone with markings and runes of tepid yellow light. It offset the chill Shiro’s voice sent through Lance when he asked,

“This is what you call home…” 

After which he promptly fell asleep.

The newness of Lance’s home eroded, smoothing out the anxious and suspicious parts of his heart with familiarity. If Lance would be so bold to assume, the smoothing catalyst couldhave also been love.

The god hoped it was, for love was all too quick and terribly easy for Lance to deluge. Love is what let him offer Shiro immortality in the first place. (Even if he hadn’t known it himself, yet.) It was from the abundance of love that let Shiro return to the surface of the shore.

Upon insistence of Shiro, Lance was not to call the land Shiro’s “real”, “first” or “natural” home. He had said the god was his new home. Lance saw without question, the passion of the human’s hate quickly turn to the passion of something… else. Because of the bright and guileless passion for which he brooded, Lance believed him. And if Lance was to be Shiro’s home, then so too would Shiro be for Lance. Home being a sentiment found within the soul is a universal sentiment. It meant that no matter how many times Shiro would affirm Lance that he felt “at home” in the sea, Lance would know he could only stay so long before becoming restless. Lance knew that there were people on the surface that were home for Shiro. Deriving of love, Lance would take him by the hand and let them return.

“It’s been so long for me that I’ve seen the kingdom of Terra.” Lance said during their first return. It had been so long since his last visit in fact, that he forgot the surface had once been home to him, as well.

“I hope you like what we’ve done with the place,” Shiro laughed. It had become his turn to host, meandering around the castle fortress. The longer they walked, the more it became evident to them both that the man needed to reacquaint himself to its architecture. In mutual fortuition, Hunk, Allura and Pidge all arrived within the next moment of breath. Within seconds Shiro was smiling down at Lance, and in the next he was unapologetically rammed into by the shortest of their party. Together the three whisked away the god and his muse without a blink. The five of them laughed and galavanted throughout the entire castle, turning Galra, Altean and human heads alike with their bellowing laughs. There was much time to compensate having spent it apart, so they spared no idle moment in triviality.

It had been years upon decades that Lance had indulged the presence of Terra’s castle. In a descending moment still charged with the dwindling echos of fading laughter, he clutched Shiro’s hand tightly. The man’s voice quieted, then leaned in close as the god whispered,

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” The kiss he laid upon Shiro’s neck was lingering and allusive. He greedily delighted in the man’s tentative inhale.

For the rest of the day, well into the night, the six of them (once Grand Duke Keith folds into their group,) galavanted in and out of royal castle grounds. Together they chatted. Together they tried food from hawking city vendors. Together they regaled tales of days missed by living them apart.

“I glad I came back,” Shiro admitted to Keith. Sitting next to them was clever Allura who just so happened to overhear him say “The sea is beautiful. As beautiful as it is terrible. But I’m glad we came back; I was starting to think I’d forgotten how to be human.”

The woman finished chewing. She served both men a cold, appraising look. “Not true, Captain Shirogane.” All eyes at their shared table turned towards her. “Being in the presence of people is not what gives one personhood. Lance had great humanity, then the druids hurt the thing he loved. Now that peace is restored, he has humanity more than he’s had in a long time. So you see Captain, it is not people that make you human. It’s love.”

The man acquiesced. After humbling himself, he full-heartedly agreed. Agreeing, to the point that love he upended on Lance was torrential.

After being shown the sights and delights of the castle, Shiro took the god back to his former barracks to purge his love onto the other. Even after the full day of galavanting, Lance still wanted to see more. His lust for adventure was insatiable, having only seen the sour side of humanity for so long. After a full day of galavanting, Lance showed gratitude to Shiro every way he knew how; submitting to Shiro’s will and deriving his own pleasure from his selflessness. Pleasing his human pleased him.

Shiro was never a selfish lover, though. He made sure to return every favor received. Under Shiro’s affections, it came to Lance’s attention truly just how long he lived without interacting with humans. Much less knowing a human. The god could say he’s known both men and women before, but now, he submits that it was Shiro who is knowing him.

Lance took Allura’s words to heart; all his love he gave and revived to and from Shiro’s heart. In their interval of private intimacy, Lance found in himself humanity unrelenting. From the heat of Shiro’s love to him, Lance had never felt more alive.

 

—

 

Their bliss was tenacious. It dove with them when they returned to the coves of their underwater dwelling. In both the shifting waters of tidings deep, and the drifting air of of dry ground in secret pockets, the god and his muse have each other over and over. In quick time, there was not a wave or sand speck that was not awash with the affects of their passion.

Aside from the obligations of Lance’s crown and the commissions Shiro still received (for the remnant facade of being Terra’s liaison,)their every spare moment was an investment to indulging each other. Love spilled out from amongst them. Magic bubbled and frothed heated between them.

Passion, passion, passion was the current binding them.

Passion in their love was the new hallmark which stained their water. Passion, against the intruder that disturbed it, severed like a bolt ripping through it.

“Lord Lance,” a strange voice distantly called. “Lord Lance!” It chides itself, “Or is it… God… Lance? Your High Divinity Lance?”

Indubitably vexed, Shirogane slipped out and away from his sire. To the blundering trespasser he roared.

“ _Who, now!_ ”

Lance’s marks flashed a white light. The rings of his eyes were swallowed by the black, hearing the fire in Shiro’s voice. The god sheathed himself and prepared for their visitor.

Upon his arrival, the shaking Altean messenger pulled at the clasp of his air helmet. His eyes flicker two and fro, never directly meeting the eyes of his audience.

“Well?” Shiro said, clipped.

The poor page boy stutters and stumbles through his whole message. “It’s the land, sirs. Lords. They- Koli- King Kolivan says there’s… there’s important business. About the druids. To discuss. He wants to discuss the druids with you.” He bowed low as best he could in the water. “My lord.”

Lance rested a hand over Shiro’s slow heart. Briefly tracing the marks over his body in his mer form, he kept his hand connected to calm the man down, but faced the Altean. “Discuss the druids? What more is there to discuss? Terra has found and tried them, haven’t you?”

“W-we have. My lord.” The boy then fiddled with the folds of his robe. “However, because you were such a… Uh… big part of the whole… thing.” Foolishly, he let himself glance at Shiro, but held back a shriek upon seeing his lethal fangs.

“Uh-huh.” Lance placidly nodded.

Still peeved, Shiro wrapped his god tight against his front. “Kolivan already called you in for witness and cross-examination.”

“I’m just glad you gave me that pardon before he could call me in against my crimes.”

The two carried on as if the courier were simply invisible collateral.

“Lance…”

“Well it’s true,” he shrugged.

Shiro pushed. “You know I hate it when you talk like that. I thought we’ve moved on from that.”

“We have, we have,” the god promised. His tone delivered coddling. “But your King might still not be.What if one of these days he calls to collect, you know?”

Shirogane pulled Lance in tight enough that they could feel each other’s heartbeating. “I would protect you. I would never let him take you away from me.”

“I know. I know Takashi-“ _why does he get like this every time make love-_ Lance groans, “but what else could your King need me for? Especially about the druids?”

The awkward boy gave a little wave to recall awareness. “I can answer that.” He said nothing further.

“Okay?” Lance encouraged.

The boy continued, if more stilted. “His Majesty said that he wanted you there to help deliberate the punishment of the vile Galra traitors. It’s what he said, honest.” He drew up his face. “I’m pretty sure that’s what he said.”

Again, the couple conferred with each other, willfully ignorant of the twitching Altean page.

“‘Deliberation of punishment?’ On the druids? I thought Rincon and the humans were taking care of that.”

Lance snorted. “Apparently not.”

Before they got too much further like last time, Shiro called out to the page in a gruff bark. “Dismissed.”

“I don’t want to go, Shiro” the god whined without acknowledging the boy’s leaving. “I feel like we were just to the surface. It’s exhausting using up all that magic.”

“Deliberation of punishment…” the man again repeated. “I wonder what that all could mean.”

“As in, they’ve apprehended the druids but haven’t done anything more?”

“Precisely.” the Captain nodded.

The god agreed. “That is weird.” He half-heartedly offered, “Why don’t we go back up and see what they want? We’ll say we bite.”

The tapping fingers against Shiro’s pectorals and clavicle diverted his focus. He channeled it back so that he may answer Lance with fixed confidence.

“We’ll bite.”

Begrudging, on account of the magic they would have to expend; disengaged, for their lack of urgency- Lance and Shiro swam again to the surface. They would handle the matter of the druids once and for all.

When the two reached the surface, Kolivan was waiting for them with a stern, terse face. He peered down with an expression as close to imperious as he could achieve. Flanking him were President Rincon and members of his cabinet, Archmage Allura and her advisor Coran, as well as First Admiral Antok and a pouting Iverson. Antok was the one to approach, offering a hand to lift them out of the water and into the fray.

“Not even my subjects give me greetings this grand.” Lance said, glib.

“What is this all about?” Shiro asked to King Kolivan. Predictably, his question went unanswered as they were whisked away.

“You must come quickly,” the King urged. “We did not want to proceed until you both were present. There is someone we should like you to meet.”

Shiro and Lance looked to each other. They silently guessed to themselves who themysterious party could be. When they reached the purple light of an enclosed courtyard, all questions were answered.

“Haggar.”

Kolivan’s voice brings central focus and command. Now he may have called attention to himself, but Shiro’s and Lance’s eyes were on none other than the bound woman snarling on the ground.

It took all of Lance’s divine strength not to coward behind Shiro’s body. The closer he stepped to the unmasked druid, the more his own magic wars inside. It could feel the evil trying to pervade and pervert his soul. The evil she radiates accostsed him, from her spitting snarls to her wiry, high-shrieking cries.

“ _Release me_!” she orders. It rattled the chains around her wrists, ankles and neck.

“Captain Shirogane.” Allura greeted them somberly. She hated meeting them in such a way, hating further the goblet of knowledge she must carry and pour. “Lance. Meet the catalyst to the needless war between Terra and your sea. Witch Haggar.”

“Shut up, you little girl!” the woman growled.

Archmage Allura carried on without pause. “Or, as she was better known to Alteans before she _changed_ , alchemist Honerva.”

The men were speechless at the sight. Lance remembers Shirogane’s unquenchable wrath towards him when he thought the god was responsible for the kindling of war. Harboring all that wrath however, he still learned to forgive.

It must be only out of forgiveness that Shiro uttered,“Is all this really necessary?”

King Kolivan’s justification came swift. “This witch Haggar has been the leader of the druid clan for decades. In her search for immortality she has transgressed far worse and far many more than the sea’s creatures. For decades she has slipped out of our grasp. Because she was the one to begin this war against you, Lance, it falls under your jurisdiction to sentence her punishment.”

The chilling words Allura spoke under her breath were just loud enough for Shiro to hear. “ _It’s too bad her father doesn’t still live. An eye for an eye, a father for a father would be most just.”_

The human President Rincon shivered minutely. He then suggested to the demigods, “There was talk of servitude.”

“What?” Lance whispered.

“Ah, excuse me.” Rincon elaborates, “As penitence, Haggar would be charmed and transformed. For as long as you would like the magic to last, she would serve in the ranks of your servants, in the shape of your regular servants if it please you.”

“In the shape of my-“ Lance caught himself. “What you mean, make her a shark?” He paled.

Shiro laid a hand on his shoulder. “Cursing her, then forcing her into our kingdom’s servitude is counter productive.”

There was not a height, depth, region or dominion that could make the gods trust her enough for even such a lowly station.

The president put his hands over his hips. “Indeed? Then what would you have her do? Neither death or life-long servitude would suffice, but it would be a start to earning the forgiveness she’ll never ask for,” he finished with a snap.

“You’ve got the right idea.” Lance’s voice was low. A threatening venom. “Maybe if she saw, and knew what she really did, she’d feel pretty sorry wouldn’t she.” He had to ignore the wailing of clashing supernaturality in his head to step closer to the prisoner. “Wouldn’t you!”

Looking around Haggar’s haunting prison cell, it seemed up to Shirogane to douse the tension. He pulled his partner back from his steady encroaching. Partial retreat wasn’t enough, for Haggar still remained in plain sight. More and more effort it took to pull the god away from his assailant. It isn’t until they both struggled against each other in the hallway’s public space that Shiro let Lance go.

“What’s wrong with you, Shiro?” was the hysterical question. “They have her right there! After so long! She can-“ he didn’t bother to fight his anger-borne tears, “-finally pay for what she’s done!”

“Lance, no.” The man hoped he didn’t cower too much under Lance’s flashing glare. “Lance!”

“Don’t shout at me. I’m right here.”

“I-“ The Captain released a deep breath. “I’m sorry for shouting. But suffering is _not_ the way to proper recompense.”

Lance took a turn to the inconsolable. “She deserves it! You saw her, didn’t you. You have my magic in you, I know you could feel the wrongness coming off of her. But you know what, this isn’t about what she did to me, she didn’t do anything to me. She needs to suffer for what she did to my people. What she did to your people. What she made me to your people- I did…” Tears flow like an estuary from the oceans of his eyes. “I… I was evil for so long. She made me think it was Terra, and I was so evil to you.” He shakes his head. “Have I ever apologized to _Terra_ for what I’ve done? To _you_?”

Shiro wrapped him close in a tight hold. He waited for the hiccuping breaths to subside, then spoke low and gentle to Lance alone.

“It’s not here or there, Lance. Terra knows you’ve changed because unlike Haggar, you’re seeking to make things right.”

“But-“

“-And making that woman suffer is not right. It’s not going to solve a thing.” Lance sniveled into his chest. He implored, “We need to work together to find a compromise. We need to find a verdict that will placate the King- ah, King Kolivan- the new archmage, the president. We can’t forget the people of Terra, either. They’re going to want justice, or whatever gruesome justice they think Haggar deserves to be served. And of course your people. Our… our people. Who knows if they’ll want reconciliation. Do you think they’d even settle enough to let Haggar through your castle doors? Much less serve amongst them or gods forbid, apologize?” Shiro gasps, “What about-“

“Stop, Shiro.”

Shiro stopped.

The god took a step away, disentangling himself from the man’s arms. Wiping his salty tears with his hand, he looked Shiro in the eye.

“It’s too much. There’s too much, there’s too many people. There’d be no way we could appease Terra’s people, our people, Terra’s crowns and us. There’s no way. Well, not without starting yet another war.”

Shirogane had Lance right where he wanted him.

“What are you trying to say?”

 _What am I trying to say?_ The teary-eyed boy contemplated. _I don’t know. I don’t know what to do._

“What about what you told me when I was still mortal? When I first met you.” Strong, pale hands gripped the dark, lithe arms that move to turn away.

“When you first met me? Shiro, I don’t-“

“Grace. And mercy.” Shiro supplied. “You said we should have grace and mercy.”

“I don’t think I’m going to like what you’re going to say.”

“Just listen.” The man gripped tighter. “Your strength, your confidence, your _beauty_ \- those are what make you divine. That’s why you were chosen to be the sea’s tribute, Lance.”

Despite the tumultuous last 10 minutes, Lance felt himself tear up again. “Okay?”

“But power and might are not what Haggar needs. She’s already been caught. The business with her druids has been ceased.” Shiro runs his palms up and down the god’s biceps. “I think what she really needs now, is grace and mercy.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Lance weakly snorted.

“You did it for me. I did it for you. We can do it again, just one more time, right? I’m tired of fighting, Lance. I just want to go back home. We can now, knowing the sea is safe from Haggar or any of her pawns. Let’s get help for her, too.”

“Yeah, gods know she needs it,” was the testy reply.

The man willfully talked over it. “I recently learned that your power and your confidence is what makes you divine.”

“But?”

“But…” Shiro looked down to Lance. His gaze inspired the makings of poems, scrips and marble replicants. From the memory Allura gifted to him, he casts off his borrowed divinity to say to his lover, “It is is grace and mercy, that make you human.”

Even still undeserving, Lance and Shirogane walked hand in hand back into the room to sentence grace over Haggar. Mercy too they shared, giving her goodness she did’t deserve, and not giving her the sentence she did deserve.

Later, Lance petulantly submitted, Shirogane was right. The god was tired of fighting and using his magic for so long. If being powerful and wielding magic was what it meant to be divine, then he wanted to be human. If only for Shiro’s sake. He could remember his humanity, for to be human, was to love.

**Author's Note:**

> in a familiar jingle: hey everyone, i'm still a piece of *garbage* 
> 
> @chickadeecrowns on tumblr


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